


Dancing with the Avengers: Disney Night

by Eiiri



Series: Dancing with the Avengers [5]
Category: Dancing with the Stars (US) RPF, Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Is A Troll, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Dancing with the Avengers, Dancing with the stars – Freeform, Disney, Disney Songs, Gen, Implied Clint Barton/Phil Coulson – Freeform, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson Friendship, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Natasha is a freaking ballerina and don't you forget it, Past Bruce Banner/Betty Ross – Freeform, Reality TV, Thank god for the six-second delay, Tony is a Showboat, Wanda is not good at people, disney night, he's fast, she's weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-01 03:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eiiri/pseuds/Eiiri
Summary: Episode three of a very special season of Dancing with the Stars!Sometimes superheroes need a PR boost, Tony decided getting the entire team on DWTS was a good way to do that. This is the result.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because the Mouse is frighteningly protective of copyright, I cannot make an 8tracks of Disney music. I think most people will know these songs already--it's all Disney music--but I'll put where to find them in the corresponding Results Show entry for this episode.

From the Dancing With the Stars logo, it panned down to the Cinderella castle intro animation from the beginning of every recent Disney movie. The sparkle of Tinkerbell flitted across the screen and, with a burst of glittering pixie dust, things cut to the ballroom with the drums of “We Know the Way” from _Moana_. The pros and troupe were dancing—all of them in golden fringe skirts, the women with heavily bedazzled tube-tops of different colors and LED flowers in their hair. Their dance was the strange but euphoric lovechild of hula and chacha. Mickey and Minnie Mouse were dancing with them—him in a Hawaiian shirt, her in a hula outfit.

Around the ballroom, the audience members all had light up Micky ears. For that matter, so did the judges—all four of them.

Tom commentated as the Avengers entered the ballroom, their respective grass-skirted pros on their arms: “Tony and Kym with _Princess and the Frog_ , Thor and Emma with _Tangled_ , both Steve and Karina and Natasha and Mark with _Hercules_ , Matt and Peta with _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ , Sam and Witney with _Big Hero Six_ , Wanda and Val with _Frozen_ , Pietro and Anna with _Lady and the Tramp_ , Bucky and Sharna with _Lilo and Sti_ _t_ _ch_ , Clint and Lindsay with _Brave_ , Rhodey and Alison with _Toy Story_ , and Foggy and Emma with _Beauty and the Beast_!”

The dance concluded and the camera settled on Tom and Erin. Tom had the same Micky ears as the audience but Erin had a subtler rhinestone and wire Minnie ear headband that went quite nicely with her shimmery blue dress.

“I'm Tom Bergeron,” Tom said.

“And I'm Erin Andrews,” Erin said. “Just in case you couldn't tell, it's Disney Night!”

“And what a night it's bound to be,” Tom said. “I'm so excited I would say let's just start the dances right now, but our pros need a minute, not so much to get changed as to put some clothes on!”

“I know,” Erin said. “We don't normally get this much skin unless it's Latin Night.”

“That's not until _next_ week,” Tom said. “Of course, a very special welcome to our guest judge, Ming-Na Wen. I hope I pronounced that right? I did? Good. You may know her as the voice of Disney's Mulan, and we're very glad to have her here tonight.” He looked around at someone off camera. “Oh? We've killed enough time with small talk.” He laughed. “Up first tonight is one of our two ladies competing this season. Let's see how Wanda and Val got in touch with their frosty sides for their contemporary to 'Let It Go.'”

In the practice studio, Wanda bounced on her toes. “I am so excited.”

“Yeah?” Val chuckled at her.

“I love this song. I know it in thr—hm, no, four languages.”

His eyebrows went up. “Really?”

“Mhm.” She nodded. “Sokovian, English, Ukrainian, and Russian.”

“I didn't know Disney dubbed into Sokovian.”

“They didn't until just a few years ago. I think _Wall-E_ is the first one we got.”

“Huh. But so you know 'Let It Go' in Sokovian?”

“Yes.”

“Can you sing?”

“Um,” she glanced at the camera, “yes.”

“Let's hear it.”

She hid in her hands, but then shook out her hair and took a breath. Subtitles appeared as she sang. “ _Found myself, now I'm free, the life I had wasn't for me. Found myself, now I'm free, I have to make my own path now. I won't be dragged back into my gilded cage—my power has always been a part of my soul._ ”

Val clapped and she curtsied adorably. “That is absolutely nothing like the Ukrainian,” he noted.

“Which is absolutely nothing like the English.” She shrugged. “It's a little like the Russian.”

Leaning against a pole, being interviewed, Val said, “It's Disney night and it's fun but we were on the bottom last week, and that's not fun. So we can't afford to lose focus. It has to be clean.”

In the studio another day, Wanda had one long practice skirt tied around her waist, another safety pinned to her shoulders as a cape. “I'm going to pick you way up,” Val told her, “and twirl us around and it's going to be awesome—but you have to keep your knees straight or you will fall backward and I will not be able to catch you, okay?”

She nodded slowly. “Can we have a spotter?”

“That's what Keo's here for.”

Leaning on the wall, Keo waved. Wanda glanced at him. “During the actual show, I'm putting my brother on sister catching duty. Just in case.”

“Fair enough,” Val said.

In the ballroom, Wanda was done up in a full-on Elsa dress that shimmered with layers of glitter and beadwork, complete with iridescent cape and silver side braid. As the music started, she was joined by Val in a white tunic and silver leggings. At the chorus, he swept her off her feet in a swirl of cape and skirt, but the big lift—the scary lift—wasn't until near the end of the dance. She stepped up into his hands and wound up with only her shins braced against his chest. With her arms raised and her cape fluttering as he spun them, it was majestic. He set her down with just enough time for a saucy little flick of her cape as she marched up and planted her hands defiantly on the judges' table with the last line of the song.

The music ended, the crowd cheered, and Wanda's knees nearly gave out. She slumped onto the table, laughing with relief, Bruno patted her arm, then she retreated to stand with Val and Tom.

“Well, that was exciting,” Tom said. “Let's start with our guest judge. Ming-Na, what did you think?”

“This is a really powerful song and that was a really powerful performance,” Ming-Na said warm, gentle smile. “It's apparent you identify with the character; that really came through in your dancing. You have excellent control over your movements. What a way to start the evening.”

“I'll agree that was quite a way to start the night, my dear,” Bruno began, “a beautiful dance—and I'm glad to see you're starting to relax, to trust your partner. You didn't hesitate with that lift. But I think, maybe, your movements are still a little _too_ controlled. You didn't quite _let it go_ , darling. I'm still wanting to see that from you.”

Wanda bit her lip and nodded as Tom signaled to Len. “You are more relaxed tonight, and that's good—it's Disney night, everyone ought to be having fun. Even I'm less grumpy,” he said with a playful, self-depreciating smile that earned a laugh. “You had nice clean lines, and you kept your balance very well during that lift, hardly wobbled at all. Overall, quite well done.”

“Let me just say _wow_ , that lift,” Carrie Ann said. “The amount of trust it takes to do a lift like that—it's good to see that from you. You did have a couple little moments where your footwork went wonky, I think one of them was mostly because of your skirt, but you put on a great show and I think we can all tell you had a good time.”

Wanda nodded, smiling slightly, then let herself be led off to the skybox.

“Uh, wow!” Erin said, helping Wanda and Val to their marks. “Hello, Elsa.”

Wanda giggled and hid in her hands—her nails matched her dress. “Hi.”

“How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” Wanda shrugged. “I love that song, I love that movie, I relate to Elsa on a deep spiritual level for too many reasons, and my brother didn't even have to catch me to keep me from breaking my neck.”

“I know, that lift was insane,” Erin said. “Val what were you thinking?”

Val chuckled. “I was thinking it would look good with her cape.”

Erin looked to the camera. “Well, he's not wrong. Speaking of your brother, though,” she turned back to Wanda. “You look an awful lot like him with the Elsa hair.”

“Oh, I know.” Wanda laughed. “We've been joking about it. And this isn't a wig—it's my hair and a _ton_ of silver hairspray.”

“That's fantastic.” Erin grinned. “Let's get your scores.”

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Eight.”

Len Goodman: “Eight.”

Migna-Na Wen: “Nine.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Eight.”

 

“That's thirty-three out of forty for Wanda and Val,” Erin said brightly. “Of course, nobody can get by on judges' scores alone, so if you want to see more from these guys you've gotta vote. Back to you, Tom.”

 

“Now,” Tom said as it switched to his camera, “our resident archer is very excited to be dancing to a song from Disney's archery movie. Let's see how Clint and Lindsay prepared for their _Brave_ -themed quickstep.”

In the practice studio, Lindsay did a cute little bounce of excitement. “So, we've got our song for Disney night.”

“Yeah?” Clint rubbed his hands together.

“We're dancing to 'Touch the Sky' from _Brave_.”

“Hell yeah!” He punched the air.

It cut to Lindsay musing, “It would be really cool if we could work in you doing some archery.”

Clint finished a swig from a water bottle. “But you're Merida.”

“I can't shoot a bow.”

Clint shrugged. “I'll teach you.”

At an archery range, Clint fired an arrow and struck the target dead center. He nocked another, loosed it, and neatly split the first arrow.

Lindsay struggled with her rental bow and sent an arrow flying off in a remarkably non-targetward direction. The cameraperson jumped back instinctively.

“Whoa! Okay, s**t, no,” Clint said quickly, rushing over to help her.

“Maybe I should stick to dancing?” Lindsay said sheepishly.

“We just need to get you a bow with a lower draw weight.” He took the offending weapon from her. He turned and mouthed “Sorry” to the camera.

Back in the practice studio, Lindsay was saying, “It's kind of more of a skip, like this.” She demonstrated.

“So, wot ahm hearin' ye say, lassie,” Clint said in a thick but convincing Scottish accent, “is ah need to be bouncier.”

Lindsay stared at him then turned away. “I can't take him seriously right now.”

Behind her, Clint laughed. “Ahm just gettin' inta mah character!”

“I can't do this.” She broke down giggling.

In the ballroom, all the people had been cleared from one end of the floor and an ornate purple and green bullseye had been set up. Lindsay stood at the other end of the dance floor in a green velvet dress, her hair curled into an explosion of ringlets. She was holding an elegant wooden longbow and three arrows. Clint walked up to her in a sparkly purple kilt, matching socks, shoes, and no shirt. The ballroom was near silent as, his hands over hers, Clint helped her nock, draw, and loose one arrow—then, with the second arrow nocked and drawn back to her cheek, he whispered to her, “Breathe.”

The second arrow flew, struck and split the first. The crowd in the ballroom cheered—the music started, and Clint and Lindsay broke into their quickstep, flavored with a heavy dose of Scottish highland dance. They leapt and skipped and twirled around the ballroom, the pleats of Clint's kilt fanning out as they moved even more than Lindsay's dress.

With the last notes of the song, Clint snatched up the bow and final arrow from where they'd been left at the edge of the floor, ran, jumped over Lindsay who'd gone down into a split, and fired mid-leap, deftly cleaving the previous arrow in the center of the bullseye. The audience jumped to its feet, applauding. Clint whooped. Lindsay hopped up and ran over to high-five him. He hugged her with one arm and comfortably slung the bow over his other shoulder as they walked over to the judges.

“Can I say a thing?” Clint asked, preempting Tom.

Tom shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Clint turned to the judges. “Ming-Na, do I know you from somewhere, because you look awfully familiar.”

“I don't know.” Ming-Na shrugged and shook her head. “By all accounts you've been around a lot, so I wouldn't be surprised if we've crossed paths somewhere.”

“Fair enough,” Clint said.

“Well, now that's worked out,” Tom said, “why don't we start with Bruno?”

“Clinton, you show off,” Bruno accused playfully. “But if only your footwork were sharp as your aim, my dear. Your kicks and flicks could really use to be cleaner, and I expect you to work on that, but what you lack in technique you certainly make up for in showmanship.”

“Ming-Na?” Tom prompted.

“Well, I honestly don't know enough about dancing to tell if your 'kicks and flicks' are particularly sharp or not,” Ming-Na admitted with a bit of a rueful smile. “It looked good to me—it was a great dance, and you're clearly a master of your own art, which I respect.”

“He definitely is,” Carrie Ann agreed. “We cleared that end of the hall mostly for insurance reasons but we probably didn't have to. Now, Bruno is right about your footwork, _but_ you have a strong hold and good posture, and you were able maintain body contact with Lindsay. You also look great so that doesn't hurt.”

Clint laughed. As it cut to Len, he was rolling his eyes. “They've already said everything there is to be said about your footwork. You're just barely able to keep up with Lindsay, but you are able to and you kept body contact while doing so. You made a good show of it.”

“Thank you,” Clint said before he and Lindsay skipped off to the skybox.

“You—” Erin began, “you're just shedding glitter everywhere, aren't you?”

“Yeahhh.” Clint looked down at himself. Purple sparkles from his kilt were stuck all over his bare chest. “Does glitter count as a shirt?”

“On this show, sure,” Erin chuckled. “Love the kilt.”

“Thanks. It's the Spirit of Scotland tartan, and I'm not wearing anything under it—like you're supposed to.”

“That is not true!” Lindsay exclaimed. She shoved his shoulder. “He's wearing shorts.”

“Oh dear,” Erin said with a glance at the camera. “Can we just take a second to talk about those Robin Hood trick shots, though? Lindsay, how cool was that for you?”

“Oh, very cool!” Lindsay laughed. “But that was all him, I didn't do anything. I actually didn't believe him when he told me he could do it—the Mythbusters said you can't.”

“The Mythbusters did it wrong,” Clint scoffed. “The split you see me do in the package was like the fifth I'd done that morning.”

“Are we sure you're human?” Erin asked.

Clint laughed. “Mostly.”

“Well. Let's get your scores.”

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Seven.”

Len Goodman: “Six.”

Migna-Na Wen: “Eight.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Seven.”

 

“That's twenty-eight out of forty for Clint and Lindsay,” Tom tabulated. “As always, they need your votes. We'll hear from Steve and Karina when we come back.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Welcome back to Dancing with the Stars,” Tom greeted as they returned from an ad for antidepressants. “Let's see how Steve and Karina prepared for their heroic quickstep this week.”

“So, we're doing 'Zero to Hero' from _Hercules_ ,” Karina told Steve in the practice studio.

He looked at the ceiling, then at the camera. “The producers think they're funny.”

“I think they're right,” Karina said.

Practicing, he stepped on her foot. She cursed. He curled in on himself. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Jeeze, I thought we'd gotten past this.”

“It happens.” She pulled off her shoe and wiggled her toes. “I'm okay.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure.”

Later, after some more successful practice, he asked, “I'm getting put in a toga, aren't I?”

She grinned at him. “You know it.”

A voice from behind the camera asked, “Steve, have you _seen_ this movie?”

“I've been sat down by both Clint and Tony for several Disney movie marathons. I've seen this movie more than once.”

“If he hadn't I'd have made him by now,” Karina said.

“You would have,” Steve agreed.

In the ballroom, Steve was, sure enough, done up in a toga, half his chest bare. Karina was in the Grecian style too, but while his toga was white with a few gold details, her chiton was all gold. Naturally, they were both in sandals. They got right into their dance without much preamble or showboating, though their quickstep did paused briefly for Steve to flex appropriately when the lyrics mentioned his pecs. At the end, Karina swung herself up into Steve's arms and kissed him on the cheek with a wink to the camera. He carried her over and set her on her feet next to Tom.

Bruno was nearly falling out of his chair fanning himself. Ming-Na looked over at him with a mix of amusement and concern. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He's always like that,” Len said dismissively. “Now, Steve, we all have to admit that song is a good fit for you, and you and Karina had a plenty good dance to it. Your hold is strong but,” he shook his head, “there's something not quite right to it, it's a bit awkward. I also would have liked to see a bit more body contact. Other than that, well done.”

“Steve, darling,” Bruno said, half talking over Tom cueing him and nearly climbing up onto the table. “You are certainly _my_ hero. I don't know what Len's talking about, I thought your hold was great, very strong through the shoulders but not hunched over—you're wearing little enough we'd definitely have been able to see anything amiss.”

“I think we're all appreciating the wardrobe department right now,” Carrie Ann admitted a bit sheepishly. “It was a fun dance—your hold is good, maybe a little stiff, but not bad and,” she smacked the table with one hand, “your feet are better! They're still not perfect, but that's okay, it's only week three, you still have time to improve more. I'm so glad to see you taking the notes you've gotten and working on them. That's really how you stay in the running on this show.”

“I like that I can really tell you were having fun out there,” Ming-Na said. “I find that's one of the most important things about performing, to enjoy it. When you enjoy your own performance, every part of it goes better, and that showed.”

Steve nodded in thanks and he and Karina made their way up to Erin where she was waiting with Natasha, who was all dressed up as Megara.

“Hey there, Wonderboy,” Natasha crooned, draping herself against Steve. She leaned up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“Hey.” Steve gave a chuckle, glanced down bashfully, and wrapped an arm around Natasha while Erin and Karina had a good laugh.

“You know,” Erin said, “nothing against Karina , and you look great by yourself, but Meg here really completes your look, Herc.”

“I do, don't I?” Natasha flounced her wig.

“Anyway,” Erin took a breath, “Steve, Karina, you had a quickstep—fast dance, not an easy dance, but it seems like you did pretty good out there. How do you feel?”

“I feel good.” Steve shruged and looked at Karina. “How do you feel?”

Karina nodded. “I feel pretty good.”

“Let's see how the judges feel,” Erin said.”

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Seven.”

Len Goodman: “Seven.”

Migna-Na Wen: “Eight.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Eight.”

 

“Thirty out of forty,” Erin said. “I think you were right to feel good. Still need those votes to keep you around, though, and we definitely want to keep these guys around, don't we Tom?

“We sure do, Erin,” Tom agreed with a chuckle before segueing. “Now, preparing for his and Peta's tango this week got a little close to home for Matt. Let's take a look.”

Curled up in one corner of one of the little grey couches in the practice studio sitting room with Matt sitting across from her, Peta said, “Do you want to know our song?”

“Of course I want to know our song,” Matt half laughed.

“'Hellfire' from _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_.”

Very slowly, Matt put a hand over his mouth, then slid it down to his chin. “Who told the producers I'm Catholic?”

Peta shrugged one shoulder. “I don't know.”

It cut to Tony sitting on the back of one of his sports cars, eating a cheeseburger. A voice asked, “What do you know about Matt?”

“Uh, he's a freaking awesome lawyer, he's blind, and he's Catholic. And Irish? Maybe? Like his family, I mean. He's as hard core a New Yorker as Steve.”

Then to Natasha getting her nails done. “Blind, Catholic, lawyer, fluent in Spanish.”

Then to Wanda and Pietro. They looked at each other. Pietro asked, “He and the blond one are Bucky's lawyers, right?”

Wanda nodded. “He's blind, obviously. I think he's Catholic?”

Then to Bucky. “Fantastic lawyer, good guy—course he's Irish Catholic like Steve. Blind.”

Then to Steve. “Oh, Matt's great. Incredibly talented lawyer. He's from an Irish Catholic family. His great-grandfather was friends with my dad and I went to church with his grandmother once.”

Finally, it went back to the grey couch. Foggy stepped in from the hallway. “Dude, it's on your linkedin.”

Matt slid down the cushions with a groan. In practice, Peta tapped her fingers together thoughtfully. “Would it be inappropriate for you to cross yourself during the dance?”

“You know what?” Matt laughed almost despairingly. “With this song, I probably need to.”

“It's not that bad is it?”

“Have you seen this movie?” Matt countered. “Frollo is disgusting.”

“Yes, I've seen it.” She paused. “Actually have you? When did this come out?”

“When I was seven. I saw it.”

“Okay. Anyway,” Peta said, “can you show me how you cross yourself?”

Matt demonstrated.

“Yes, okay, perfect. I have an idea.”

In the ballroom, Matt started on the upper stage dressed in a billowing cloak, head bowed over a podium set with a large braille book, his fingers ghosting over the page as the Latin chanting that began the song rang through the room. Peta crept up to him, dressed as a gypsy in purples, blacks, and golds. As they tangoed, she led him farther and farther from the book, their dance both intensely seductive and deeply disturbing. Near the end, on the lyric “God have mercy on her,” Matt ran his hand up her body, her back to his chest, then pushed her away. On the next line, “God have mercy on me,” he crossed himself.

After a dramatic ending—with Peta clinging to Matt, dragging him to the floor—they went over to Tom and the judges.

“Um, _wow_ ,” Carrie Ann said. “We—I swear, before the show and back stage you're so reserved with just about everyone except for Foggy, then you get out on the dance floor and turn into this showman. It's amazing to watch. Your awareness of Peta is amazing as well, and your footwork is very clean. I wish your arms were as clean though,” she bemoaned. “You need to finish your lines more fully.”

“You box, don't you?” Ming-Na asked.

Matt nodded, pulling at his collar. “I do.”

“When you go to throw a punch,” Ming-Na continued, making fists, “you have to follow it through, right? If you don't, you'll hurt yourself. So, maybe if you treat dancing a bit more like throwing a punch, that might help with what Carrie Ann's talking about.”

“I appreciate,” Len began, “how light on your feet you are, and your footwork is quite clean. I agree with Carrie Ann about your arms, but I think Ming-Na's given you some good advice about that. You play off of Peta quite well. The theatrics were a bit much for my taste, but I know better than to expect anything else on Disney night, and you've put on a good show for us.”

“Our Catholic schoolboy comes out to play,” Bruno joked. He propped his chin on one hand. “You might need to clean up your arms a little but you sure know how to move the rest of you, even in all those robes. You bring such intensity,” he gave a flick of his fingers. “You always do, but, reallly, Matthew, every time you dance I want more.”

Matt made a bit of a face, Tom gave him a pat on the shoulder and ushered him and Peta off to the Red Room.

Matt was shedding his robes by the time he and Peta reached Erin, stripping down to his undershirt and trousers. “Um, _hello_ ,” Erin said. “Yeah, I'm not surprised you're hot. That was the sexiest thing to ever hit the floor on Disney night. What _was_ that?”

Peta shrugged. “That song is about sex, there's no real way around it.”

“There's really not,” Matt agreed. A crew member took his robes from him and handed him a towel.

“From what I hear,” Erin said, “you've been given hell all week, if you'll pardon the expression, for being the Catholic in the room and the one dancing to 'Hellfire.'”

“Oh, yes.” Matt half laughed. “Mostly from Foggy. That's just part of our friendship—he teases me for being a pawn of the Church, I tease him for being a godless heathen. It's all in good sport. One thing though.” He gestured in the direction of the stage. “That was not a real Bible. That's one of my law books.”

“It's a gorgeous book though,” Peta said. “I don't think you could see it in the dance but the cover is all embossed.”

“Very cool,” Erin said. “Now, Matt, I have to ask, have you ever been through something like that song?”

Matt snorted. “I think every Catholic teenager on the planet goes through some version of that song.”

“Fair enough,” Erin laughed. “Let's get your scores.”

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Nine!”

Len Goodman: “Nine.”

Migna-Na Wen: “Nine.”

Bruno Tonioli: “It's a nine!”

 

“Thirty-six out of forty for Matt and Peta!” Erin crowed as Peta jumped up and down, making her skirt flutter, and Matt grinned broadly. “That's the best score of the night and, honestly, unlikely to be beaten. That must feel fantastic.”

“Oh, it does,” Peta laughed while Matt nodded.

“Absolutely,” Matt agreed.

“And it should,” Erin said. “Tom?”

“Coming up,” Tom said, weightlifting Matt's law book/prop bible with hand, “Tony Stark and Kym prepare for their voodoo quickstep.”


	3. Chapter 3

“We are back with Dancing With the Stars. Our favorite billionaire philanthropist had only one request regarding his Disney Night number,” Tom said. “Let's see how Tony and Kym prepared for their Princess and the Frog themed dance.

Backstage during Most Memorable Year night, Kym said to Tony, “So next week is Disney Night.”

“Can we do a villain song?” Tony asked. “I wanna do a villain song.”

Kym laughed softly. “We'll see what we get.”

With Tony lounging in the usual interview chair, he was asked, “Why do you want a villain song?”

He laughed and pushed his hair back. “Being bad is fun. I mean, in real life if you lock a kid in a tower for years or kill your brother and establish a totalitarian state, we come kick your a**. But for the length of a song….” He shrugged with a knowing smile.

In the practice studio, Tony picked up an envelope clearly labeled TONY AND KYM'S DISNEY NIGHT SONG. “Please be a villain song, please be a villain song, please be a villain song,” he chanted as he tore it open. He pulled out a card, crowed with delight, then held the card up for the camera: “Friends on the Other Side” from _Princess and the Frog_.

Practicing with Kym later, Tony twirled a top hat before placing it on his head. “You do have a soul, don't you Kym?”

“I'm about to sell it if you don't stop goofing around and dance.”

“Yes ma'am,” he said quickly, skipping over to dance with her.

Kym looked at the camera as if to ask, “ _Why is he like this?_ ”

As they practiced, Tony bounced on his feet. “I'm getting used to this whole dancing fast thing. It's only what we've done every week.”

Kym nodded, and pointed to his feet. “You've got to get the steps right though.”

“I'm working on it.”

“Because Len wants to see the technique.”

“I know.” Tony nodded. He huffed dramatically and rolled his neck. “Let's do this.”

When things came back to the ballroom, there was fog rolling across the dance floor. In the midst of the fog were Tony—in tails, a top hat, and vest with metallic foil body art around the reactor—and Kym, her midriff bared over a multicolored, multilayered handkerchief skirt. Their quickstep started off with an intimidating dip, then slowed during the spoken opening of the song before picking up with the pace of the music. At the end, there was a flash at Tony's feet, a puff of smoke, and the lights went out. When they came back up, Tony's hat was on Kym and they were hugging their way over to the judges.

Len frowned down at his notes. “The thing about that song,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “the way it speeds up and slows down then speeds up again, it makes for a rather odd quickstep, now doesn't it? Where it slows down, your dance almost had to turn into a foxtrot—not much you can do about that, but it did turn things a bit weird. What quickstep there was in there was actually quite decent and you've neatened up your feet a good deal, which you're to be commended for.”

“It is fun to be bad,” Bruno purred, “and you're so good at it! Apparently all you need to get your toes sharp is to go to the dark side—who knew it was so simple?”

“Yes, you are improving,” Carrie Ann said, “but I feel like you're not taking this seriously. Not that I don't want you to have fun, you absolutely should be having fun, especially tonight. It's just—you're such a natural showman, and that's wonderful, it makes you a joy to watch, but I can tell you could be so much better as a dancer than you are right now if you stopped goofing off so much and put in the effort. I can see potential in you and it's a little frustrating that you're not living up to it.”

Tony pressed his lips into a line and Kym rubbed his arm.

“You are a goofball,” Ming-Na said gently. “You actually remind me a little of Eddie Murphy, who I've had the good fortune to work with more than once. Of course, he's a comedian, but even he knows there are times to buckle down and do serious work. I'm sure you know that do. I'd say, when you're out here, have your fun, but during the week, be serious, listen to Kym. She's your teacher, she deserves your respect.”

Tony gave Kym a little awkward side hug and let her steer him offstage without looking at her.

“Hey,” Erin said gently. “Great dance, you two. But, Tony, you just got some real talk, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, I did.” Tony sighed and shrugged. “Little hard to hear, 'cause it's all true.” He looked over at Kym. “I do respect you, y'know? I just suck at being respectful….”

“Aw.” Kym wrapped an arm around his waist. “You're good at other things.”

“Like dancing,” Erin provided. “At least, I think you are. Let's see if the judges agree.”

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Eight.”

Len Goodman: “Eight .”

Migna-Na Wen: “Eight.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Eight.”

 

“Thirty-two out of forty for Tony and Kym,” Erin summarized. “Don't forget they need your votes if you wanna get to see Tony's serious side. Back to you, Tom.”

“For the second time tonight, we're going Grecian,” Tom said. “Let's see how Natasha found her muse in Mark this week as they trained for their foxtrot.”

Natasha and Steve sat next to each other on the tailgate of a pickup truck in the studio parking lot, both eating out of Chinese takeout boxes. “What movie you got?” Natasha asked between mouthfuls of noodle.

“ _Hercules_ ,” Steve answered. “You?”

Natasha lowered her chopsticks. “Same.”

Steve twisted to look more directly at her. “No.”

“Yup.”

“We're going to end up matching, I just know it.”

“We're going to be f*cking adorable,” she said decisively, shoving more chow mein in her mouth.

Practicing, Mark poked Natasha on the hip. “Can you do a sassy hip swish?”

“Can I do a sassy hip swish?” Natasha scoffed, doing one.

“Perfect,” Mark laughed.

“I don't have as much a** as the cartoon but I've got the sass to make up for it.”

On a later day, Mark talked them through it as they danced with Natasha in a long practice skirt. “We turn this way, aaaand then we turn this way.”

“Wheeeeeee,” Natasha sing-songed. Mark laughed.

In the ballroom, Natasha, dressed up as Meg from _Hercules_ , started her dance to “I Won't Say I'm In Love” alone in a statue garden on stage. A verse in, Mark joined her—done up in a toga the same gold as Karina's chiton from earlier—and they began their foxtrot in earnest. After twirling and gliding around the dance floor together, at the end of the dance, Natasha settled herself onto Mark's knee and fanned herself with her hand. The music ended, he hugged her, and they skipped over to stand with Tom.

“Why do I get the feeling you related a little too well to the beginning of that song?” Tom asked.

Natasha laughed. “Because I do.”

“Alright then,” Tom said. “Ming-Na, what do you think?”

“Well, I think it's an honor to get to watch you dance.” Ming-Na shuffled her notes. “I'll admit I'm a bit of a fan of yours—”

“I'm a fan of yours, too,” Natasha interjected brightly.

Ming-Na laughed. “Well, thank you. Anyway, you're a great fighter and a beautiful dancer. And I can tell you were having fun. That's the best part.”

“So sassy!” Bruno crowed. “You certainly have the Megara attitude, my dear. And on top of that,” he held up a hand, “your technique is impeccable. Stunning.”

“Natasha,” Len began, “you are a wonderful dancer. Your feet and arms are clean, you have good posture, a good hold.” He shrugged and shook his head. “I feel like I need to criticize something but you didn't do anything badly. Your wig looks fake.”

Carry Ann laughed and Len's complaint then took a deep breath to ground herself. “It's a lot of wig,” she admitted. “But what I really loved tonight about you wasn't your technique—it was great, totally—but what what I love is that I feel like we just saw you having fun without a mask. You were playing a character, sure, but you were connecting to that character and performing through that persona, not hiding behind your usual fem fetal facade. I'm so glad to see that.”

Steve was waiting at the bottom of the stairs as Natasha and Mark headed off to the Sky Box. He swept Natasha up into a bridal hold and carried her up the stairs with Mark laughing behind them. As they took their marks, a tweet came up on the bottom of the screen saying, “OMG Steve & Natasha's chemistry!! [heart eyes emoji heart eyes emoji] Need me some lovin like that! #BunsNGuns”

“Can I just say that the four of you are adorable?” Erin said as Karina joined the three already assembled, standing next to Mark in their matching muse-gold outfits. “Because you're adorable, all matching. Natasha, you were great, of course.”

“Why thank you.” Natasha looped her arm through Mark's. “Can't do it with this guy, of course.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.

Mark leaned into the mic. “She makes my job easy.”

“Aw.” Erin laughed. “Mark, Karina, did the two of you coordinate with the costume department?”

“Yes,” Karina said.

“It would look ridiculous for us to be doing the same movie and not look like we were from the same movie,” Mark explained with a chuckle.

“Alright,” Erin laughed. “Natasha, Mark, let's get your scores.”

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Nine!”

Len Goodman: “From Len, a ten.”

Migna-Na Wen: “Ten!”

Bruno Tonioli: “It's a ten.”

 

Natasha jumped up to hug Mark around the neck and he caught her. Karina joined the hug from one side, then Steve joined from the other, wrapping his arms around the other three.

“That is a fantastic thirty-nine out of forty for Natasha and Mark!” Erin said brightly. “But this scores are only half of it, so you have to vote. Do that while we're on commercial, yeah? We'll be right back.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Our resident speedster had a bit of a hard time this week with his and Anna's _Lady and the Tramp_ inspired jazz routine,” Tom said as they came back from commercial. “Let's see how Pietro handled his first slow dance of the season.”

Being interviewed, Anna said, “We're dancing to 'He's a Tramp,' and I have to admit I'm a little worried about Pietro because this song is _slow,_ and he's getting really frustrated.”

In practice, Pietro cursed, scrubbed his hands through his hair, and bounced on the balls of his feet. “I can't do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Anna said encouragingly.

“No, I can't!” Pietro snapped. He snarled a sound of frustration then, with a swoosh, he was gone.

The door belatedly banged shut after bouncing against the wall. Anna let out a long breath. “Oh boy.”

Outside, a ways off from the camera filming them, Wanda scritched her fingers through Pietro's hair. “ _It's okay_ ,” she said in subtitled Sokovian. “ _Just breathe_.”

“ _I breathe faster than this song_ ,” Pietro muttered. “ _I can't go this slow. It doesn't work_.”

“ _Do you think taking your meds might help?_ ”

Pietro sighed heavily. Folded up in an interview chair, Pietro huffed and held up his hands. “I am ADHD. I was diagnosed way before I got the superspeed—Wanda suspects it's _why_ I got superspeed—and I do have a prescription for Adderall, but I don't like to take it. It makes it hard for me to sleep—which I have a problem with anyway—and I forget to eat, and since getting superspeed, taking my meds makes me feel like,” he shook his head, searching for words, “like I'm inside jell-o.”

“So,” Anna said to Pietro in the practice room, “are you going to try taking your medicine, or no?”

He shook his head. “Natasha's dumped B-vitamins and chamomile tea on me, and I'm gonna see how that does. If I can avoid the drugs, I will.”

“Okay.” Anna nodded understandingly. “Best hopes for the power of tea.”

In the ballroom, Anna stood in a spotlight, swaying to the instrumental opening of “He's a Tramp,” dressed a very classy cream dress with a matching fur ruff. Pietro slid in on his knees in tattered grey jeans and a red dog collar in place of a tie with his grey buttondown shirt. She booped his nose and they began their flirty, teasing dance as the lyrics started. They ended the dance on the steps to the stage, hiding what might have been a kiss behind Anna's ruff. Pietro fiddled with the tag of his collar as they walked hand in hand over to the judges.

“I know this week was hard for you,” Carrie Ann began, “this song is quite slow and you _did_ get ahead of the music but not as much as I expected you would! It's clear you've been working so hard, and not for nothing. Also, you are a wonderful Tramp, your footwork was really clean, so you should feel good about yourself, you did good.”

“I wonder,” Ming-Na said slowly, “have you ever done any martial arts?” Pietro shook his head and she continued, “Okay, I think it might help you to learn the basics of maybe tai chi, to focus your breathing and slow everything down. Even I could tell you were a little ahead,” she said almost apologetically, “but I hope you don't stress too much, just have fun. Okay?”

“Pietro, you dog,” Bruno teased. “You are really quite a good actor, do you know that? But you know you're still getting ahead. I notice, when you're with your sister you're very tender and actually very slow. Try practicing with her, maybe.”

Anna leaned into Pietro to whisper, “That's not a bad idea.”

“Pietro,” Len sighed, looking down at his notes. “I want to like you, I really do. Your technique is really quite good—Carrie Ann mentioned your footwork—but you are so consistently off the music and I just can't overlook that.”

Pietro chewed his lip as Tom cued their exit, then whisked Anna back to the Red Room.

“I can tell by your faces that wasn't what you were hoping for,” Erin said. “What are you thinking right now?”

“I'm thinking I should maybe get my prescription filled,” Pietro said.

Anna pouted and rubbed his shoulder. “We just have to keep working on keeping on the music.”

“That's right,” Erin said. “Let's get your scores.”

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Six.”

Len Goodman: “Six.”

Migna-Na Wen: “Seven.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Six.”

 

“Twenty five out of forty,” Erin said somberly as Anna rubbed Pietro's back comfortingly. “You gotta vote for these guys if you wanna keep them around, and we definitely don't want to lose them, so get on those phones. Tom?”

“And now,” Tom said, “let's see how Rhodey and Alison trained for their waltz to infinity—and beyond.”

“So, we're doing a waltz for Disney night,” Alison said in practice.

“Okay.” Rhodey rubbed his hands together. “That's different. What song?”

“'You've Got a Friend in Me.'”

“From _Toy Story_?” Rhodey grinned.

“Yup.”

“Oh, that's great.” He laughed. “Can I dedicate this dance to Tony?”

Alison laughed too. “I think you should.”

“Awesome.”

A brief montage played of them practicing and Rhodey wincing; then, being interviewed, Alison said, “I know this is Disney week and it's supposed to be fun but we were on bottom last week and Rhodey is having a lot of trouble maintaining posture in hold—and I'm worried.”

Of to the side during camera blocking the two of them hugged. “Hey,” Rhodey said gently, “I'm having fun. I'm not worried. You don't worry, either, okay?”

She nodded against his shoulder. “Okay.”

In the ballroom, Rhodey was in a white and lime suit, Alison in a flowy dress the same colors. Their waltz was sweet, but stiff, and seemed to drag on.

Alison looped her arm around Rhodey as they went over to the judges.

“You're dancing through some really difficult circumstances,” Len said, “but we have to judge everyone the same and that was...that was not great, and I think you know that.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey confirmed shortly. Next to him, Alison frowned.

“You lacked fluidity,” Len continued, “you didn't have any of the rise and fall a waltz is meant to have—honestly it was hardly recognizable as a waltz. I don't know what else to tell you.”

Carrie Ann grimaced before she started talking. “I'm afraid Len just said it all. You brought to the dance floor everything you could, and what you brought was a sense of friendliness and loyalty that absolutely suits the song. Unfortunately, the dance didn't do as well.”

Bruno shrugged and shook his head. “I think we've all found a friend in you, Rhodes. I can't say that the waltz is your friend, though. What matters though is that you did you best and I know you had fun with it.”

“You did have fun, I can tell,” Ming-Na said warmly. “To have fun when you're having difficulty is such a rare and commendable thing, and I wish I had the positivity you've shown.”

“Thank you,” Rhodey said softly then he and Alison left the dancefloor for the Skye Box.

“So, that was a little rough,” Erin said, and Rhodey and Alison nodded. “But, not worrying about that, I love these outfits.”

“It's Buzz Lightyear's mess dress,” Rhodey said.

“That is a great description,” Erin said. “I love that. Buzz Lightyear's mess dress. That's great. Let's get your scores.”

 

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Five, I'm sorry.”

Len Goodman: “Five.”

Migna-Na Wen: “Six.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Five.”

 

“Twenty-one out of forty for Rhodey and Alison,” Erin said, suppressing a cringe. Next to her, Allison took Rhodey's hand and squeezed it. He leaned to her and said something too quiet for the mic to catch. “If these guys make it through tonight's eliminations they're really going to need your votes, so get on the phone and go online.”

“This week,” Tom said once it cut away from Erin, “Thor and Emma got a little tangled up in their Disney night rumba.”

“Wait,” Darcy said talking to Thor in the sitting area of the practice studio, a boba tea in her hand. “You're doing a song from _Tangled?_ ”

“Yes,” Thor said.

Darcy slammed her tea down on the nearest horizontal surface. “I'm braiding your hair now.”

“Um, alright.” Thor allowed himself to be pushed down into a chair so he was at an accessible height.

In the studio, Emma said, “We're dancing a rumba so this is a slow intimate dance.”

Thor nodded. “Alright.”

Practicing, she told him, “Okay now now slide your hand down my butt.”

“This is untoward,” Thor said, but he did as instructed.

“It's sexy,” Emma corrected.

“Yes,” Thor agreed, “and untoward.”

In the ballroom, both Thor and Emma were dressed in purple and gold, their blond hair back in intricate flower-woven braids. “I See the Light” began and they started their rumba, slow and sweet and sexy, if a little bit disconnected. She drove the first part of the dance when the singer was female, when the song switched to the male singer, Thor drove it. They ended in an embrace, then went over to Tom.

Ming-Na took a breath, briefly covering her mouth with her hand, before she started talking. “Sorry, I'm still giggling a little over you saying that was untoward. I don't think it was untoward at all—sexy, yes, but mostly very pretty. I enjoyed it. And your hair is perfect, both of you.”

“I dunno,” Carrie Ann said playfully, “might have been a little untoward, it was quite sexy. Emma, you're a little impatient for latin night, aren't you?”

“Am I?” Emma scoffed. “Did you see the opening number?”

“Good point,” Carrie Ann laughed. “Anyway, it was a really good rumba, except—” she cringed a little “—your fluidity wasn't great, which is a problem for rumba and something you should be mindful of going forward.”

“Well, you know what the problem was,” Bruno interjected, stepping on Tom trying to cue him. “Thor, you have to move your hips!” He stood, smacked his hands on the table, and gave a little hip wiggle. “You don't move your hips and it leaves things rather staccato. You need to let things _flow_. Get that worked out by next week, my friend, you'll need it.”

“I'm rather disappointed,” Len said, “not because this was all that bad, but because I've seen you do better. Not your best dance, but I'll give you that it was fun.”

Thor and Emma went off to Erin, who reached out to the two of them as they neared. “I wish my braid was amazing as yours. It might have been staccato but that was so pretty, you guys.”

“That was awkward,” Thor said simply.

“Only because you're shy.” Emma elbowed him gently then leaned across him to say to Erin, “He's too polite for his own good sometimes.”

“Aw, no!” Erin laughed. “Thor, don't be shy. The ballroom is a no judgement zone and we want to see you go all out.”

“I,” Thor hesitated slightly, “will do my best.”

Emma grinned at him. “That's what I like to hear.”

“Let's get your scores.”

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Seven.”

Len Goodman: “Six.”

Migna-Na Wen: “Seven.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Six.”

 

“Twenty-six out of forty for Thor and Emma,” Erin said. “Don't forget to get in your votes.”

It cut to Tom. “Foggy and Jenna and Bucky and Sharna take the floor when we come back.”

The camera panned to the two costumed couples boogying on the corner of the raised stage before going to commercial.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is busy so writing is slow, but here's the next bit. Enjoy.

“Now,” Tom said, “Foggy and Jenna had quite a laugh working on their jazz routine to 'Gaston.' Let's take a look.”

“We're dancing to 'Gaston' from _Beauty and the Beast_ ,” Jenna said.

“Sweet!” Foggy bounced a little with excitement. “Do I get to be Gaston?”

“Yes.”

“Awesome! Does that make you LeFou?”

“Um.” Jenna shrugged. “I guess so.”

Practicing, Foggy jumped up on a chair and struck a melodramatic pose, his expression exaggerated. Jenna had to turn away, laughing. Later, he pulled her to him and flexed, the look on his face dead serious. Jenna started laughing and almost fell. There were a few more instances of Jenna having to stop dancing because she was laughing too hard at Foggy's antics. Foggy turned to the camera while Jenna laughed herself breathless on the floor. “She told me to ham it up.”

In the ballroom, Foggy slumped dejectedly on the stairs dressed up as Gaston. Jenna came up to him dressed as LeFou as the music started. She threw an arm across his shoulders and their dance began. Several of the troop joined in as Gaston's admirers and the number ended with Foggy hoisted up onto Derek, Mark, Gleb, and Keo's shoulders.

Once the music ended and they'd put him down, Foggy and the guys all clapped each other's backs, then he and Jenna hugged and went over to talk to the judges.

“Let's hear from Bruno,” Tom said, as Bruno braced himself against the table, laughing hard. “If Bruno can breathe.”

Bruno wiped his eyes. “I'm alright, I'm alright. Foggy, I—that was so much fun. You're not exactly graceful, but you dance with such joy, and with that character—oh, you make me laugh and I thank you for that.”

“Gaston isn't exactly graceful, though, either,” Ming-Na pointed out. “You got into the character and,” she smiled warmly, “you were absolutely a hoot.”

“Well,” Len sighed, “I've given up on wanting you to be a good dancer—I'm sorry, but you're not.”

“No, I'm not,” Foggy agreed brightly. He shrugged and laughed. “I can't believe I'm still here.”

“I can tell you why,” Len said. “It's because you're fun to watch. Your technique leaves plenty to be desired but every week you come out and give it your all, and I like to see that.”

“You really do give it your all,” Carrie Ann agreed. “You're a real showman and you have exactly the right attitude for Disney night. I'm glad I get to watch you.”

“Thank you,” Foggy said, then he and Jenna went off to Erin.

“Oh, Gaston and LeFou!” Erin greeted. “Foggy?”

“Yes?” Foggy said.

“Foggy?”

“Yes?” he laughed.

“I love you. Ming-Na said it: you're a hoot. And Jenna?”

“Yes?” Jenna laughed.

“I think Disney needs to hire you.”

They all laughed.

“She's great,” Foggy said. “I'm awkward but she's brilliant.”

“Aww, you're brilliant too,” Jenna said, giving him a side hug. Then she tacked on, “In your own way.”

“He really is,” Erin said. “Let's get your scores.”

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Six.”

Len Goodman: “Six.”

Migna-Na Wen: “Six.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Six.”

 

“Twenty-four out of forty for Foggy and Jenna,” Erin summarized.

“I mean,” Foggy cringed a little, “that could have gone worse?”

“It could have,” Erin said comfortingly. “Don't forget to vote for these guys if you wanna see more of 'em—and we all wanna see more of em. Tom?”

“For the record,” Tom said as it switched to his camera, “the lowest score in our show's history is an eight. A combined score or eight—two twos and a four. So, yes, that definitely could have gone worse.” He gestured at his earpiece. “I have people feeding me trivia from the control room. It's great. Anyway. This week, Sharna might have engaged in a little bit of method acting—or, she made Bucky do some method acting—as they prepared for their Hawaiian roller coaster ride of a jive.”

In the studio, Sharna leveled a curious, questioning look at Bucky. “Have you seen _Lilo and Stitch_?”

He laughed and ran his good hand through his hair. “Yes. Clint sat me and Steve down and made us.”

Sharna laughed too. “Okay, great.”

“You know those 'badness level' drawings Lilo does?” Bucky asked.

The scene from the movie played, Lilo displaying her crude crayon drawing of Stitch., mostly colored in red “This is you,” Lilo explained. “This is your badness level. It's unusually high for someone your size.”

“Yes,” Sharna said cautiously.

“Steve has a few of those of me.”

Sharna stared at him, mouth open in bemused surprise. “ _Really?”_

Bucky nodded.

In the studio sitting room, Sharna waited expectantly, arms crossed while Steve dug through a backpack, “C'mon I've got to see this.”

“I have to figure out which book it's in, hang on,” Steve said. He flipped through a sketchbook. “Here we go.” He held it up, open to pages with four silhouettes across them, the first scribbled in red almost to the top, the level falling over the next two, then jumping back up almost halfway in the last one.

Sharna pointed at the last one. “What happened there?”

“Um.” Steve glanced at Bucky.

“Let's leave it at 'I was being a little sh*t,'” he said, laughing.

In practice, tacked to the wall behind them as Sharna bossed Bucky around about his feet, was a dry erase board with a mostly empty badness level drawing, a red marker dangling from the edge of the board on a lanyard.

“What are your toes doing?” Sharna demanded, pointing at his foot.

He made a half strangled sound of frustration, flopped dramatically back onto the floor, then popped back up and mockingly kicked her in the hip. She leveled a glare at him, marched over to the board, grabbed the marker, and colored the level several inches higher.

“Okay, that's excessive,” Bucky objected. She added another inch. “And that's punitive.”

In the ballroom, Bucky was in a blue velvet suit with a darker blue shirt underneath, no tie. Next to him, Sharna was in a sparkly, flouncier version of Lilo's red dress. The music started and he grabbed her hand. They jumped and jived to “Hound Dog” by Elvis Presley, twirling and skipping all over the place, Buck not only looking like he knew what he was doing but like he was actually having fun. Their dance got a little naughty in a couple places—not real sexy, but playful, him rubbing up on her just a little, ending the dance on his knees with her elbows propped on the top of his head.

“You know what I love?” Carrie Ann exclaimed, preempting Tom's cue as Bucky and Sharna came to stand with him. “Bucky, you're having fun! And I can see it. It wasn't perfect, I did catch a few little mistakes that I have to count off for, but it was very good. You're really trusting Sharna and it does good things for your dancing. Do that more!”

Bucky laughed and hugged Sharna to his right side.

Ming-Na shook her head, looking down at her notes, then looked up smiling. “You remind me of Stitch, actually? You're a bit of a bad boy, but you're fun and genuinely good. And I think you feel that parallel as well and it worked out well for you.”

“That definitely was fun,” Len granted, “and Carrie Ann makes a good point about you trusting Sharna, but she's also right it wasn't perfect. In the package we heard Sharna giving you instruction about your feet and you really should have listened to her more. Your toes are not as pointed as they could have been. Work on that.”

“Yessir.” Bucky nodded.

“Sarge,” Bruno began with a crooked grin, “you and Tony our bad boys, I swear. I agree with Len about your footwork—your kicks and flicks could really be sharper—but I see you improving and I look forward to seeing what your bring us next week.”

Bucky nodded and he and Sharna went up to Erin. Sharna reached for the mic. “I'd just like to say this with witnesses: Barnes, I told you about those toes.”

“You did tell me,” Bucky conceded with a sigh. “You told me, and I should have listened, and I probably deserved all the red ink on that whiteboard.” He took a deep breath and tugged at his collar. “The velvet suit was a mistake.”

“Anna danced in a fur coat, you're fine,” Sharna said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Erin chuckled. “Velvet is not a very forgiving fabric to dance in. Fur isn't either, of course. Really, though, no matter what you're waering we all come off that floor hot and sweaty.”

“That's true,” Sharna admitted.

Bucky nodded and undid the top button of his shirt.

“Okay, let's get your scores.”

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Seven.”

Len Goodman: “Seven.”

Migna-Na Wen: “Seven.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Seven.”

 

“Twenty-eight out of forty for Bucky and Sharna,” Erin said. “Some room for improvement, just—” she gestured vaguely. “Toes. Feet. Yeah.”

Tom was chuckling when it cut to him. “We have one more dance when we come back from Sam and Witney, and then, sadly, someone must go home. All that, after this.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Our last dance of the night,” Tom said as they came back from a commercial for a drug that shouldn't be used by anyone with a personal or family history of endocrine neoplasia syndrome type two, “is brought to us by Sam and Witney all the way from San Fransokyo.”

In a tango hold with Witney in the studio, Sam said, “Y'know, using Fall Out Boy for Disney night kinda feels like a cheat.”

She shrugged. “It was in a Disney movie. Stop sticking your butt out.”

He fixed his posture.

Another day, they were mid dance when the studio door banged open to reveal Tony looking absolutely incensed. “Why do you get the armored super hero movie?”

“Uh,” Sam said, stumbling out of a dance step. “Because you asked for a villain song?”

Tony's eyes narrowed, he backed out of the doorway and pulled the door back shut without saying a word. Witney shook her head, “Having all you here at the same time is interesting.”

“Girl, you should see how sh*t is when we're all at _home_ together.”

Witney laughed. “Maybe I'll come visit. Now then, back to where we were so rudely interrupted.”

“Don't come visit,” Sam said as he took her back into hold. “Don't do that to yourself.”

“We'll see,” she threatened then smacked his arm. “Back to super hero mode.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

In the ballroom, Sam was in a sparkly red suit with a purple vest and Witney had a short blue cheongsam and chopsticks in her hair. They dove straight into their tango, which dripped with sexual tension, even more than most tangos did, while still managing to be playful. She wrapped one leg up over his hip, parting the side slit of her cheongsam and flashing a lot of thigh; he caressed the back of her neck. At the very end of the dance, she hopped up to wrap her legs around his waist—they held the pose a brief moment after the music ended, he set her down, they hugged and trotted over to stand with Tom.

He cued Ming-Na. She looked to the other judges. “Is it fair to just say that was hot?” She laughed. “I don't know what to say other than that was hot. I thought it was great. You move beautifully, Sam, and the two of you move very well together.”

Len shrugged. “I'll grant you that was hot, but I'm not sure that was appropriate—” The crowd booed and Len turned partially in his seat to wave them to hush up. “It was a good tango, and Witney, the choreography was good, I just don't think the theme warranted all _that_.” He gestured in the general direction of where the thigh flashing had happened. “Also Sam—don't get me wrong, you danced well—but one of those hooks wasn't as sharp as it could have been. Still a good show though.”

“I know exactly which hook Len means,” Carrie Ann said. “But over all, very clean, fun, and I think a great end to the night.”

“You certainly do know how to move,” Bruno purred. “Very small mistakes my dear, you brought San Fransokyo to life on the dancefloor. Well done.”

“We're going to keep you right here for your scores,” Tom said with a hand on Sam's shoulder.

 

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Nine!”

Len Goodman: “Eight.”

Migna-Na Wen: “Ten!”

Bruno Tonioli: “Nine!”

 

“Thirty-six out of forty for Sam and Witney,” Tom said. “Very nice. Here, join the others on stage.”

As Sam and Witney went up on stage with the other couples, Erin joined Tom on the floor. “Now,” Erin began, “the judges' scores have been combined with your votes and it's time to reveal who of our couples are safe, and who's in jeopardy.”

“The first couple in jeopardy is,” Tom said with dramatic pause, “Pietro and Anna.”

Pietro nodded forlornly and Anna hugged him.

Erin took a breath, “Joining them in jeopardy are Foggy and Jenna.”

Foggy patted Jenna's arm as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“The final couple in jeopardy,” Tom said, “is Rhodey and Alison.”

Rhodey pressed his lips into a line and shook his head slightly at a whisper from Alison.

“The rest of our couples are safe,” Erin said, “and will be coming back next week for LatinNight.”

The lights went down on all the safe couples. “Now then,” Tom said, “Pietro and Anna, Foggy and Jenna, Rhodey and Alison—one of the three of you have the lowest combined total of judges' scores and viewer votes from last week. The couple going home tonight is,” he paused stretched for effect, “Rhodey and Alison.”

Rhodey bowed his head and nodded, accepting his fate. Alison gave him a side squeeze. Tony walked into frame and he and Rhodey had a hand-clasp turned bro-hug, other hugs went around, then Rhodey and Alison came down the steps, heeding Tom's beckoning them down. Tom put a hand on Rhodey's shoulder. “You knew this was coming, didn't you?” he asked gently. “I can see it in your face.”

“Yeah, I knew,” Rhodey said. He shrugged. “I've been saying I'm not good, and after dropping Alison last week.” He shook his head. “I don't belong here. But it's been a blast, I'm glad to have had this experience and glad to have met this beautiful woman.” He flashed a grin at Alison.

With a laugh, Alison hugged him. “This guy's great. He has the best attitude. We've had fun.”

“Take your bows just over here,” Erin said, gesturing.

“We'll be back next Monday for Latin Night,” Tom said. “Stay tuned for Dog Cops, coming up right now!”

 


End file.
